


From Simon Banks' Incredible Tales of Cascade, the Most Dangerous City in America

by Toshua



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: AU, Alternate Universes, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 06:47:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/795050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toshua/pseuds/Toshua
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a missing scene from Legion's Storm Signs AU.  Simon's reaction to Jim and Blair's return.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From Simon Banks' Incredible Tales of Cascade, the Most Dangerous City in America

## From Simon Banks' Incredible Tales of Cascade, the Most Dangerous City in America

by Toshua

Everybody in this story belongs to somebody else, so does the universe.

Thank Legion for this piece. When I read Storm Signs, I was blown away. I loved sarid's Panther Tales, but I loved Legion's version even more. Thank you Legion for letting me play in it for awhile.

This is a Missing Scene for Storm Signs. After reading it, I realized that Simon had been silent. Then he started talking to me and this is the result. This story will make no sense if you haven't read both Panther Tales and Storm Signs. 

* * *

They're home. 

I stood there, poleaxed at what I saw. My missing friends of three years, plus two strangers, had suddenly appeared in a loft apartment that had been vacant a second ago. They were bloody, burned, bruised, filthy with smoke and barely upright, leaning on each other. 

My first reaction was for my gun. Whoever had done this couldn't be too far away. Only their pleas stopped me. My second reaction was for the phone and a call for help but they stopped me again. 

All I could do was honor their wishes and scramble to help them to the floor and the only mattress left in the apartment. Jim's shoulder was bleeding, and Blair's hands ... 

The next hour passed in a blur. I helped Sandburg pull medical supplies from a backpack he seemed to live with. We bandaged Jim, got him halfway comfortable on the floor. I watched Sandburg set a dislocated shoulder like he'd done it a hundred times, then splinted and bandaged the man Blair called Al. The other one was only conscious for a couple of seconds when we tried to move him. 

Finally, when everyone's injuries except Sandburg's were taken care of, I watched him survey his charges and nod to himself. He crawled to Jim, balanced on the sides of his hands, and stroked the sooty face with one finger. 

"Go to sleep, Jim. Simon's here. We're home. We're safe." He looked at his partner intently. "I'll fill him in, on everything. I promise. Rest, man. It's over." 

Jim nodded slightly and turned his face into Blair's touch before closing his eyes with a sigh. I watched as all the tension and pain seemed to flow from Ellison as he relaxed into the makeshift bed. 

"Sandburg -" 

"Simon -" 

I stopped, my demands for answers unspoken as Sandburg turned toward me. I hadn't really looked at him since their abrupt arrival. I'd been too busy following his instructions as we cared for the others. Now I did look and I'm sure the shock must have drained some of the color from my face. The young man was filthy like the others, and the hair that had escaped the long braid stuck to his forehead and face. But his eyes were what shocked me. The blue eyes turned toward me were vacant, fully dilated and ... blind. They stared at me from a too thin face underlined by dark circles and heavy stubble. 

"Simon, I could use a little help here." Blair knee-walked toward me, one hand skimming the floor until it encountered my knee. I watched in silent fascination as it spidered up my knee and gripped my thigh. Both hands were wrapped in bloody gauze; a hasty bandage applied when they'd first arrived. 

"Blair -" His name froze in my throat. "What happened? Where have you been? How did you get here? Who did this to you?" 

"Oh man. Long story." The bloody hand gripped my thigh, then let go. Sandburg sighed. "Can it wait?" He held up his hands toward me. "Give me a hand with these?" He tried to smile, tried to hide the pain in his face by keeping it out of his voice. 

"Sandburg, you're blind ... aren't you?" I whispered the words, almost afraid to say them. 

The weary head nodded. The shoulders that had been so straight and firm sagged, crumbling in on themselves for a long moment, then squaring again. "I'll tell you all about it, if you'll help me to the bathroom and bandage my hands." 

I forced myself to my feet and took his arm, helping him stand. Then I took a deep breath and told myself whatever the story was, I'm not falling apart on him - or Jim. 

Taking care of someone is almost second nature when you're a father. Seating Sandburg on the toilet seat, unwinding the strips of gauze from his hands, filling the sink with warm water and gently washing the blood away was easy. Listening to the young man as he told me of the last three years of their lives was hard. Hard doesn't even come close. Try impossible, heart-breaking. Sandburg's voice was so calm, so matter-of-fact as he related how they had fled, knowing they were running for their lives. I'd had an inkling over the years what was going on, even followed up on a few clues and made some very discreet inquires, but nothing led me to these facts. 

I finished wrapping his palms, then knelt in front of him. "Blair - your eyes?" 

"I don't know, Simon." He shook his head and his voice trembled a little before he took a few deep breaths and straightened slightly. "There is some saline in my pack, for contacts. Rinse my eyes and bandage them. Maybe later I can visit a doctor." 

I nodded and left him alone long enough to snag the pack, glance at the other three sleeping men and return. He hadn't moved, but he'd unbraided his hair enough to tuck the loose strands back into the thick bundle and braid it back. I paused, watched his bandaged hands go through the deft motions. 

"Let me," I finally murmured. "Give your hands a break." 

Sandburg nodded and dropped his hands into his lap and held still. I fussed with his hair for a moment before I grabbed towels and placed one in his lap over his hands and draped the second one under his chin. 

"Lie back and try not to blink." I opened the bottle of saline and dribbled the fluid into eyes looking blankly toward the ceiling. 

"How come the loft is still empty? Surely utility companies and bill collectors came looking months after we split?" His voice was ragged with exhaustion and I felt tremors of fatigue running through him and into my hands holding his head. 

"Guess it's my turn to tell a long story. You guys had been missing about a month and everything that I'd done to find you had struck out. I was down to talking to some of Jim's more unreliable snitches. Then I got this e-mail telling me to go to a particular bank and ask for a certain teller and ask for a safety deposit box. When I got there, I'm handed a key, ushered into a private room with a box. I opened it and found a long note in Jim's writing. From all the postmarks it must have come halfway around the world. Inside is a note to contact Steven, tell him to go to a trust account, pay off any outstanding bills and put the loft in Daryl's name for safekeeping. There were directions to use another account for electricity and stuff and to keep the loft in the family for emergencies. Since then, I've used it for a safe house several times and the city is picking up the maintenance bills." 

I wiped Blair's face, then ran the towel under hot water and washed his face for real. He didn't object when I smeared shaving cream on his cheeks and started shaving him. 

"When Jim and I left, there was only the money we could grab from his ATM and my savings account. If there was a trust fund with money, I didn't know about it." Blair almost smiled through the shaving cream. "Remind me to ask Sam how he got Jim to write that letter." 

"Sam? You mean the other guy? That's Sam Beckett?" 

Blair would have nodded if I hadn't been holding his chin. "Sam, has a 'gift' for laying his hands on things at a critical moment in time. I wouldn't be the least surprised if the trust wasn't something that Jim's dad did and conveniently forgot, until Jim needed it." 

I wiped the last of the shaving cream off his face. "Sandburg, that didn't make any sense at all." 

Sandburg patted my arm. "That's okay, Simon. You've only heard the tip of the iceberg." 

I took Sandburg's arm and steadied him as he got to his feet. Without the dark beard, his pale, thin face looked even thinner. His appearance made me think of missed meals and the empty cupboards in the kitchen. 

"So, technically, the loft belongs to Daryl." The bandaged eyes looked at me. 

"No, technically, it belongs to the city, under control of the Cascade Police Department, in particular, Major Crimes." 

"Cool." Sandburg nodded. "Jim will appreciate that." He yawned and slumped against the wall for a moment. 

"Why don't you lie down before you fall down, Sandburg? I'll stick around while everyone is asleep." 

"I'd appreciate that, Simon." Sandburg started for the living room with one hand trailing along the wall. After a moment he stopped. I was behind him and without a sound I led him to Jim's side. He flashed me a smile for a bright second, then toed off his sneakers before curling up next to his partner. Jim didn't wake, just rolled onto his side and pulled Blair tight against him. I draped both men with a blanket and took up guard at the door, my weapon in my hand. I had a lot to think about. 

The loft was silent, really silent. I think this is the first time I appreciated why Jim loves this place. It's high enough that the street noise doesn't penetrate. All the skylights let in whatever natural light there is, so the apartment was seldom totally dark. It must have really been his safe haven from the noisy world. 

Sitting there, I could hear four sets of lungs breathing softly. It took me a few minutes but I finally separated them out. Al snored; a noisy sleeper. Beckett was quieter, but mumbled and whistled. Jim and Blair however, never made a sound. They were curled together and if I hadn't been listening, I don't believe I could have determined if they were alive. I wondered if their silence was a learned habit from living on the run for so long. 

My butt got pretty numb sitting there and several times I wished for a pillow or something softer than hardwood floors. The loft was almost empty, just the few blankets and towels I'd found when they arrived. Whenever it was used as a safe house, I made sure it was thoroughly cleaned afterwards. Looking back, I must have always assumed that Jim would return one day and demand his home back. He would not have appreciated multi-legged house-guests. I mentally made a grocery list. 

I watched them sleep and my mind went back to all the rumors I'd tried to track down, all the dead ends, and all the worry. They'd been missing almost a year before I heard one rumor that gave me hope. I was attending a police conference in Seattle. A bunch of off-duty cops were talking shop in a hotel bar, swapping bigger and bigger lies as the drinks flowed. 

I was about ready to call it a night when the talk turned to vigilantes. The usual jokes about Batman and Robin flowed around the table until one DC cop shook his head and proclaimed he'd take a bat over a cat any day. If I'd had Jim's hearing, I couldn't have been more focused. The rest of the group demanded more and the cop obliged. 

He started telling about a vigilante who called himself Panther, who was prowling the DC underground. Never seen except in shadows, never heard except for a growl or scream. He had a partner called Chief, who was supposedly a small guy who worked with him somehow. 

As soon as the man said 'Chief' I knew it was Ellison and Sandburg. Nobody else would go by those names. What I didn't know was why they were in DC. Were they being hunted or were they the hunters? For the next year, I kept a subscription to the local DC police newsletter, cruised the Internet looking for bits and pieces of what 'Panther' and 'Chief' were doing. I didn't get much. But every now and then something on a police report would make it to a tabloid headline. It was enough to keep my hope alive. My eyes wouldn't leave the four men who returned without warning. 

Sandburg's hair almost reached his waist and there were long strands of white mixed into the braid. He was way too thin and there were crow's feet at the corners of his bandaged eyes. Ellison was thinner, but it was the sleek thinnest of a man who worked hard. Every muscle was defined in his arms and chest, stomach. There were a few new scars that I couldn't account for. The two strangers were older than Ellison. I knew of Sam Beckett from a conversation with Jim years ago. But the man wrapped around Beckett was an unknown. 

Which made me wonder at the relationships I saw that day. Blair was curled into Jim's chest, his hands on Jim's arm. Jim had a leg thrown over Sandburg's. Sam and Al were spooned together, Al wrapped around Sam. Before they disappeared, I was convinced Jim had fallen in love with his partner. There wasn't anything I could put my finger on, just a feeling. Now, I think it's mutual. I wondered if they turned to each other because they couldn't trust anyone else? But the other two? Who knows? 

Beckett was the first one to stir from their exhausted and drug-induced sleep. He looked at me without recognition, even though he called me by name. Does that mean he was listening when Sandburg and I were talking? Or does he know my relationship to Jim and Blair? He asked me the strangest questions, not only the time and day, but also the date, all of it. My answer didn't make him look any happier or comfortable. He tried to reassure me that Ellison and Sandburg were safe for the time being. I didn't believe his story for a minute. I'll have to ask Sandburg for details later, because I certainly didn't believe the story Beckett told. What could an U.S. Senator have to do with their injuries? Were he and his people the hunters that forced Jim and Blair to run? Did they figure out who Jim was or what he was? 

Beckett didn't stay conscious long. I think Sandburg pumped him full of painkillers to help with the massive burns he has. And that's something else I have to remember to ask him. When did Sandburg get medic training and where did he get the medic kit he carried. I know the backpack he carried when he worked with Jim contained a lot of first-aid supplies, but nothing like what I saw tonight. 

Sandburg stirred next, hours later. The shadows were getting long and the sun no longer shone through the loft skylights. My butt had forced me to get up and walk and the floor creaked, which disturbed him I think. He wiggled himself free of Jim and sat up. I didn't say anything, just watched. Blair touched the bandages over his eyes. He dropped his head to his chest for a moment and I could hear his breathing pick up. I think he was on the verge of tears when I called his name. 

"I'm here, Blair, by the door." 

Sandburg froze, then turned covered eyes in my direction. He didn't move for a long time. 

I waited him out, convinced that he was trying to visualize the layout of the loft, his location in relation to me. He finally crawled away from Jim's side, pausing to drape the disturbed blanket back on his partner. 

"I'm at your 10 o'clock, against the door." 

That was all he needed to orient himself and crawl toward me. He found my foot, then leg and sat down, one hand on my ankle. 

"How are you feeling?" It seemed like a dumb question, but also a necessary one. He didn't look any better, but how was I supposed to gauge his condition? 

He shook his head. "Sore." He tried to smile but it fell short. "I need a shower, some clean clothes, brush my teeth, shall I keep going? I'd settle for a guide to the bathroom and some aspirin." 

"I think I can help you there." I stowed my gun in its ankle holster and carefully walked with him to the bathroom. While he was occupied, I found aspirin in his pack and snagged a glass out of the kitchen. I helped him with the glass of water, trying to ease the pain in his burned hands. 

"You don't have to stay, Simon. I'm awake now. We're safe now." 

I didn't know if that was a dismissal or a plea for privacy. I looked around the small room, and tried to think of something to say that didn't sound like a worried father. 

"Are you sure it's safe, Sandburg? You haven't given me any reason to think so. I mean, look at you. Look at Jim." 

"It's as safe as it's going to get, Simon. I'm sure you will be missed if you're gone much longer." 

I had to agree with him there. I'd left the precinct on the pretense of checking on the loft in case we needed it this week. The real reason was I needed a quiet place to think. 

"I'll make a deal with you. You keep my cell phone in your pocket, turned on. You don't try to do anything without someone who can see, is awake and is close by. In return, I'll stock the kitchen with essentials and bring you some clean clothes. Daryl's will fit you I think. And I'll bring Jim something of mine. Can you live with that?" 

He nodded. I offered him my arm and took him back to Jim's side. He sat down on a blanket and took my cellphone in a clumsy grip. He placed it next to Jim's head, beside a knife and Jim's gun. He turned toward me again and tried for an innocent expression that only showed how hurt he really was. 

"I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. Neither are any of the rest of us." 

"I'll be back in an hour." I started to turn away but paused and looked at him. "I don't have to say don't open the door for anyone, do I?" 

"No, Simon." He did smile then, an honest one. I saw the Sandburg I knew in that teeth-filled grin. 

"One hour, Sandburg." 

I opened the door before I changed my mind and stepped through. The door closed with a solid snap and I was suddenly grateful that I'd taken the time to upgrade the locks, the doorframes and deadbolts. It would take more than a sturdy foot to kick the door in now. I also punched in the security codes and activated the electronic system. I wonder how Jim will react to that improvement? I wasn't comfortable about leaving them, but if anything happened, I knew someone would respond in minutes. 

As I backed my car out of the parking lot, I paused and looked up at the third floor window. As I glanced up, a ray of sunlight hit the balcony just right and the glass flashed brightly. 

I drove away feeling better. Maybe a higher power was guarding the guardian who had returned to his tribe. 

* * *

End From Simon Banks' Incredible Tales of Cascade, the Most Dangerous City in America by Toshua: Toshua@gci.net

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